Midnight Motorist

A man is driving to clear his head. To simply get away from everyday life and be alone for a little while. But as he drives he gets into an accident

The night is one that is no different from any other, yet the effect of the current date is a strange one. I haven’t felt this way in a while. Perhaps it was a lack of change that caused it, perhaps it is because of a change I never noticed. The moon hides in the sky and shadows can be seen accompanying the hidden moon. The sidewalks are covered with trash, tents, and people. I pass by bars, nightclubs, and motels. The people sit on stairways, lonely walls, or merely sit on the sidewalk holding a bottle in one hand and a cigar in another. The clubbers come out prancing alone or with someone else, the bars are lonely and rage-filled, and the motels are moan-filled. But the street is more active than usual, with more bottles in hands, and more smog in the air. But I drive past it all, ignoring the drunk lasses and wasted lads, the neon signs promising a good time with smiles, dollar bills, and smooth legs. None of it entices me, not today. I --  just. I don’t want to be distracted, not today. Not anymore.

The car hums softly and purrs with each hard press of the gas. “You know, I can always change but no. No! Too much f*****g work, huh?! Too ‘hard’, huh? M**********r, m**********r! Jesus Christ, I’m talking to myself again, like I’m ever going to respond…” I stare out the windshield and see the empty street in front of me with the sidewalks devoid of anything. I don’t know how long has passed, nor did I even care to figure it out. Today… Today’s date has an effect that takes full hold of me, consumed by its wrinkled fingers and deadly grip. “Why am I even doing this? I just want peace… Just for a second! A second! Not a week, a day, or a minute, just one f*****g second! Yet! You keep laughing at me! You keep me dancing on hot coals? Know what! F**k you! Want to keep dancing? No! Not me! Never me! F**k you! I won’t be a dancer forever! I give in!” My foot instantly smashes on the gas and the engine screams as a light shower drizzles in. The patter of rain on concrete was- sweet- so incredibly sweet. And the wheels traveling on wet concrete, going 80, 90, then 110, made it sound sweeter. So sweet it was. It was a noise I hadn’t heard in a while, not since I graduated college where they called my name. I stood on a stage while the world saw me. Shouting my name. They sang me praises. I haven’t heard that sweetness in a while, no, the feeling of it. The feeling of accomplishment, of opportunity, of winning. With each new mark, the speed dial passes the more the feeling consumes me. 

115, 120, 135, 140. The engine is roaring. The drizzle covers the windshield. I passed by scattered lights on light posts, trees, and remote homes. It was a peace I never figured I would reach, but I am here, loving it. I don’t know of the cause nor did I care to find it. Perhaps a thought caused the feeling, perhaps a food. But it didn’t matter. I had it- that’s all that matters. The drizzling became harder. I rolled down my window, smelled the concrete, and faintly heard the raindrops crashing on earth through the engine’s cries. The cry became softer as the car reached its limit, 160, and its cry sounded wonderful to me. It sounded as if it were on its last cry before it died, crying out with the world watching, leaving it answered as it walked away. The engine cried for its health and I loved it, the power of this control was intoxicating. I wanted to go faster and faster to make it beg for its life even if it were simply an object. I simply wanted the feeling. It was pathetic and I knew it, but I didn’t care about outside perceptions. I just thought of what was happening now rather than thinking of an explanation. 

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I finally noticed the speed I was going. I could only process what was to come as everything around me was just gray blurs and a surrounding void that was disrupted by unfocused lights on light posts. I was scared and only started to notice. My heart was beating, my eyes were wide, and my back was covered with sweetness. The smell of rain was overpowered by the smell of gasoline and her fumes. I lifted my foot and slammed it on the brake pedal. It screamed a horrid scream. It was a scream of agony, of complete suffering, the one that would be screamed when your skin was peeled off of you. But the brake pads could do nothing but continue to scream as I forced them to be flayed with the tired joining too. 

150, 130, 110, the tires kept clawing at the ground trying to keep their grip on the glissing road. The 2 fought, the tired clawing at the road’s eyes and neck while the road simply dogged and blocked the claws. 100, 95, 90. The tired began losing the fight as he became tired from always attacking but kept trying despite the sloppiness of his tires and grabs. A smooth turn approached and the car slid close to a bank of trees boarding the curve. The front tires, after the turn, soon adjusted but the back tires seemingly gave up the fight. Left, right, right, and left, the truck kept sliding despite my efforts and the maneuvers of the front tires. I kept driving drunkenly on the road and saw a sign with a rock hillside with rocks falling off it, “Beware Falling Rocks” was at the top in bold letters. My window was still open and I smelled, in the moments of calm, I smelled pine, rain, and gasoline. 

The sweat on my person began to pile on my head, chest, and back as the car kept dancing on the road. 90, 85, 80. My heart kept beating hard in my chest feeling its echo or my back, legs, and throat. Another sign approached “Speed Limit 20” in bold black letters contrasting the yellow background. “Too bad. How tragic it was, really it was. Wasn’t it?” 

A turn appeared in my headlights, leading to more roads or a total void. “I tried, I really did. I didn’t mean this. I just had enough of things. But never did I want it, truly.” 

I wonder what it would look like from a passer-by. Would it have looked like suicide? A drunk driver? Would the trees be horrified to see me? A thousand-pound car driving straight toward them. I think I smiled. I hope I did. Momma needs to know I was happy. I hope she saw me smiling at the mortuary. The world moved slowly, very slowly. My mind tried so hard to prolong its life that it stopped correctly perceiving it. It tried, that’s all that matters, it tried to save itself. 

Bits of trash began to fly up, followed by an empty water bottle that was in a forgotten back seat cup holder. The trees appeared from the void and into the headlights. They were sideways, then upside down, sideways, rinse and repeat. The roof, doors, and underside all hit branches. One branch cracked the windshield, and another ripped off the right or left rearview mirror. It made a noise, a nice and loud cracking sound. The breaking of glass and bending of metal was all there was to hear and see with the noise of the car being the spearhead of it all, dogging upright, sideways, upside down, sideways, and repeat. My butt lifted off the seat and I seemingly floated for a second till the arms of my seat belt held me tight. Soon after I flew the airbags deployed on the right, and left sides then the car slammed into a sideway branch. The branch was ripped from its mother and slammed me forward into the airbag. Suddenly everything became real again except faster. I was a rag doll to velocity, weight, and acceleration. A sudden stop equals pain in the shoulder, a broken finger, and glass in the eyes, from the now-broken windshield. A gain in velocity equals acceleration. A greater weight in front of us equals a total stop. Total stop equals broken neck, pictured lungs, and another broken window. Rinse, repeat, Rinse, repeat, Rinse, repeat, Rinse, and repeat. Down the hillside, I went. Down I went then and down I go now. 

I never found faith, I’ll forever say I tried. To the gates of heaven when I’ve already been judged, to Saint Peter I’ll say, “Mr! Sir! I tried! I tried! I was good, I swear! I swear!”. Then they’ll watch me fall again. Watch me while I reach out for some forgiveness to a God who no longer cared- not for people like me. Those who died in a contraption of metal, trees, and gas. Those who died were confused, angry, and blind. Must I be punished for it? You knew this was to happen, why didn’t you save me?  You knew I was blind! Why didn’t you make me see? You knew of my anger but never helped me calm down! You knew of everything and let it all happen! Is freedom worth it if it means being killed because of it? You’ll send me to hell anyway, oh my mighty Yahweh! Take it back! You’ll see it all and never do anything about it! You said you love me! You said you love me! Then act like it! F*****g act like it! Lord where the f**k is the mercy! 

It smells funny and I feel something drip down my face. I don’t know what up is, what down is, what left or right is. I’m trapped in some amalgamation of metal, leaves, gas, and my own limbs and blood. It was dark where I was, a total void. Nothing hurt, nothing burned, nothing felt anything. I was simply existing with no perception of anything, other than weird smell. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die… Mama help me -- mama where are you? Help me -- mama help me. Find me, mama, please? I’m scared, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go. Mama, I’ll be good. Mama, I’ll be good, please, don’t be mad, help me, mama? Please? Father? Help me, Father? I’m sorry! Don’t take me, yet! Please!” 

But nothing answers this lone man cries. Forever he’s trapped in a forever growing void. Trapped under metal and unknown to the eyes. Part here, part there. Where’d he go? Everywhere. Watch him leave, watch those eyes roll back as he floats, floating to where? F**k if I know, pray that there is no God, and hope there is. For his sake. Hope. Have some faith. Or don’t. He’s damned anyway. At least he saw the rain for one last time. He liked the rain…